


No Degree of Separation

by EllaPreuss



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Humor, a tiny bit of angst, domestic AU, fluffy fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6963439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaPreuss/pseuds/EllaPreuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After having been a part of a battle between gods and coming out alive, the girls get some well deserved rest. </p><p>A work inspired by fluffy prompts I get on Tumblr, because I suck at coming up with cute ideas.<br/>(On Hiatus because I'm busy writing my Shoot College AU, go check it out!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sameen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nesi23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesi23/gifts).



> Prompt from Nesi23: Domestic AU: "Just them being little shits to each other but they love each other anyways."  
> With help from Mars (rootingforshaws), because I was at a loss for what to do. Mars, I took some liberties with your prompt, but I'll keep using it in a later chapter ;)  
> This has to be the cutest thing I've ever written, and I'm scared. Let me know what you think!  
> I have a bunch of other prompts, courtesy of Mars, so this will be an ongoing fic. If you have any cute prompts for me, msg me, because I am seriously cuteness-impaired.

“Root, I swear to God, if you don't take this blindfold off me in the next thirty seconds…”

“ _Sameen_ ,” Root croons in her ear,  guiding her girlfriend with a hand on her elbow and the other at the small of her back. “What did we _just_ discuss about being patient?”

Sameen hates not knowing where Root is taking her. She's all for blindfolds being used in different situations, but this? This uncertainty of not knowing if the endgame is something that will bring her pleasure or not is annoying as fuck. Also, her hands are tied in a very complicated sailor's knot that she can't get out of. She's tried.

* * *

 

For four hours, Root drove them all over New York City, only blindfolding her at the last hour. Sameen is sure she did it on purpose. She might not have been able to see during those excruciating sixty minutes, but she knows Root drove around in circles just to irk her to Hades and beyond, listening to fucking _Journey,_ too. If she _ever_ hears “Don't Stop Believing” one more time…

After several unsuccessful attempts to get the knot untied, Sameen just stopped trying. She could _feel_ Root’s shit eating grin in the tiny space of Root’s new car, invading her senses.

Oh, that would _not_ be the end of this. There would be Hell to pay.

When the car finally stopped, all of Sam's annoyance turned to curiosity, despite her best efforts to keep being mad at Root. So she let her girlfriend open her door for her, what with her hands being tied and all.

“Careful with your head, sweetie,” Root said, grabbing her arm and closing the door after her.

“Well, I wouldn't _have to_ be careful if you would just…”

“Sameen, do you want your surprise or not?”

It actually took her a full minute to think it through. “ _Yes_ ,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I'm sorry, what's that?” Root grabbed her arm tighter, coming ever so closer to Sam's body, but without leaning on her.

Sam's blood began to boil, in anger or anticipation, she didn't know. She took a deep breath through her nose (though what she really wanted was to punch something) and said, “Yes, I want my freaking surprise. Can we hurry this up? I'm starving.”

Root giggled. “Baby, you really need to learn to be patient.” Sam felt her stroking her arm, going up to her neck, pushing rebel strands of hair out of the way. Sam's breathing picked up speed. She felt Root rest her lips on the crook of her neck while she pushed her back against the car. “I thought I'd taught you by now that the best things,” Root said against her skin, “ _come_ out of being patient.”

 _Fucking rope_ . It burned Sameen’s wrists, and not that she didn't enjoy it sometimes, but right now all she wanted was to be free so she could turn the tables on Root. She'd been in control for way too long. Sam needed to give her a little taste of her own medicine. See how long Root could be freaking _patient_.

Root’s mouth carved a hot path over Sam's neck, up her jaw, and Sam knew this would end badly, but it was like her body had a mind of its own around Root. She turned her head towards her, waiting for the inevitable kiss… a kiss that never came.

“Well, it's getting late, we should go inside,” said Root, pulling herself off of Sam.

Did she say there would be Hell to pay? What she really meant was that she would personally drag Root’s ass (her very nice ass, mind you) through the nine circles of Hell. And then she'd leave her there.

* * *

 

“ _We_ didn't discuss anything, Root,” Sameen says.

They're walking down a series of hallways, Sam can pick up her and Root’s footsteps echoing in the enclosed spaces around them.

“You just did what you always do: use your body to get away with it.”

“But you love it,” Root replies, a smile in her voice.

A series of retorts dance on the tip of Sam's tongue, but, after all they've been through, she can't argue with that logic.

Root finally brings them to a stop and releases Sameen, who's still trying to figure out what the heck is going on. She thinks she hears a lift, so why the Hell did Root make them climb the stairs to the freaking fourth floor of wherever they are? Man, she is _so_ done with this surprise bullshit.

Root pulls out a set of keys from her leather jacket, the clinking of the metal resounding in the hallway.

A door opens. Sam hears Root take a deep breath. She feels her shaking as Root puts a hand on her back again, to lead her forwards.

The door closes. Root’s trembling fingers make quick work of untying the knot, and Sameen wishes she could see her do it, so she'll know how to untie it herself next time.

“Keep your eyes closed until I say so.” Root’s whisper sings in her ear, igniting her flesh. Sam licks her lips, heart thumping against her ribs, as Root removes the blindfold and moves away from her. A dozen different scenes play out in Sam's mind, each and every one of them fueling her desire.

“Okay,” Root says in a shaky voice. “Open your eyes, Sameen.”

Whatever Sameen expected, this was most certainly not it. Not Root standing in the middle of a strange apartment, hands in the pockets of her jeans, balancing her body back and forth on the balls of her feet and looking at her expectantly. Sam's seen this look on her before and knows to associate it with the feeling Root explained to her: nervousness.

But why is Root nervous?

A tentative smile curves Root’s mouth, and she looks around, body hunched over, as if inviting Sam to do so too. The fluorescent lights from the outside seep in through the tall glass windows, painting shadows on the floor along with the moonlight. Sam sees a balcony, long and curving around the corner of the building, spacious. A garden table has been placed outside and… is that a smoker?

Without realising it, Sam moves around the open space, taking it all in. A frown makes its appearance on her forehead, putting a smile on Root’s face as she follows her.

A big cherry wood table's been placed right in front of the front door. Cardboard boxes, some closed, some opened, lay over it and on the floor.

There's a brand new sofa to the right, close to a big fireplace. A 40” TV on a dark mahogany low table. A dozen throw pillows on the very comfortable-looking sofa. Sam recognises Root’s lava lamp on the small table beside it.

Ants start to crawl around inside Sam's body, but she says nothing and continues with her exploration.

She follows the short hallway that connects with several closed doors, and opens the first one to her right.

Her hand still on the door knob, Sameen takes a deep breath. Feels her body tense up, bites her lips. Placed in the room in front of her is her weight lifting equipment, everything she's gathered through these past few years. Her eyes roam over her dumbbells, her old, worn medicine ball, and also, over some new gear. Top notch, she adds to her inner monologue as she reads the brands and logos marking the stuff.

But that's not all that's in the room, for at the left side corner of it is a big wooden desk, equipped with three screens, a keyboard and an assortment of gadgets which are most assuredly not meant for her.

Root’s made sure her stuff barely occupies any space. Her swivel chair looks small and uncomfortable and Sameen’s already making a mental note to ask Finch where she can buy Root a better one as she touches the ugly and rough fabric lining it.

And then she realises that her brain's already accepted the situation without her even giving it a second thought. Why should she, though? They were already living in the same space in Finch’s safe house, their clothes mixing in the drawers of the boudoir they shared.

Before moving on to the next room, she spares a glance at Root, standing just outside the door. Arms crossed, Root looks at her with wide eyes, scared eyes. Sameen has become an expert in reading them, she's quite proud of herself for it.

So, instead of reassuring her girlfriend, she decides there's no day like today. She had sworn that she'd make Root pay, hadn't she? Where's the harm in letting her sweat it out a little more?

The next door she opens leads to a very nice, newly renovated bathroom, complete with a clawfoot bathtub. Her mind's already coming up with ideas to make Root forget who she is in there. But she has to keep her grin in check, and it's with great effort that she heaves a sigh and closes the door again.

Hearing that sound, Root’s smile disappears, panic rising in her throat.

Sameen walks over to the next room, the one in front of the bathroom, but before she can open it, Root presses her back against the painted white wood. Her chest’s right in Sam's line of sight, and if Sam didn't know any better, she'd say that Root has just come back from a run.

Because Root sucks at running cross country and this is exactly how she looks after one. Hey, at least she tries.

Doing her damnedest not to outright laugh at Root, Sam puts on her game face and growls at Root’s chest, not looking up at her in case those eyes manage to break her concentration.

“ _Move_ ,” she says.

“There's nothing in here.” Root’s voice is laced with fear, and Sam is nearly tempted to give it up, until she remembers that the woman drove them aimlessly around for _four_ fucking hours.

And, now that she thinks about it, Root wasn't the only one that was acting shady all morning. Last night, Finch had, very suddenly, decided that the safe house the girls were staying in was in need of some “urgent” repairs and asked them to vacate the premises immediately, with the promise of having booked them a suite at a prestigious hotel, of course. John had called her this morning to “ask how they were doing”, and later proceeded to tell her to go get Bear because he wasn't gonna be able to take him out today. So Sam had made the trip all the way to John’s, only to find that Bear was with Finch.

Hell, even Fusco had checked in with her, all but asking her her exact coordinates.

And now that she knows why, the list of people she would drag to Hell grew even more.

Sameen pinches the bridge of her nose, looks up at Root. “Root, if you don't move away from the door, I will.”

“Sam…” Root whines.

That's it. She's had it with her. Grabbing her by her biceps, Sam effortlessly picks Root up, lifting her off the floor and pushing her aside. After a few years of teaching her endurance, Root has developed some muscles of her own, but they're nothing compared to Sam's and her years of disciplined training.

She opens the door and finds… nothing.

The room's in shadows and it takes a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. Behind her, Root keeps making little whining noises, taking sharp breaths in. She knows better than to try and push Sameen out, so she stays put.

Sam's still racking her brains trying to find the reason for Root to be this upset. The room's painted white, with a large window overlooking the balcony, but it's empty. Maybe if she turned on the lights?

Turning around, Root’s silhouette leaning on the doorway is the first thing she sees, a dark mass in contrast to the light from the hallway. The second, though, is a chair, tucked away against a corner of the room.

A _rocking_ chair.

Suddenly, the game is over, her brain demands it. Because she knows why there's that particular type of chair in this empty room and why Root didn't want her to step into it after seeing her practically scowl at everything else in the apartment.

Just, the idea of it, of _them_ doing this together… never in a million years did she think she'd have this. She knows exactly what she's feeling right now, she doesn't need to tell Root what she's thinking so the she can help her decode her emotions. Because fear is something that her heart knows very well, but it's not a crippling kind of fear, no. It comes hand in hand with excitement.

Sam didn't realise she had been staring at the chair. She turns her head, locking her eyes with Root, who looks very much at the brink of a breakdown. Her feet carry her forward, towards her, and she stops a breath away from her.

Root’s hunched body puts both their faces at the same level, her head still leaning on the doorframe as if it could hold her together. Lines of worry crinkle her eyes. Sam hates that. Those lines should write smiles in Root’s face, not this. Slowly, she brings her right hand up, trails her fingers over them, her hand burying itself in her hair as her thumb rubs smooth circles on Root’s soft skin.

It's all Root can do to close her eyes and place her own hand over Sam's. But she's still not at ease.

Sameen closes the distance between them, pressing her forehead to Root’s. Lets her breath tingle Root’s face like she knows she likes. The sound that steals from Root’s throat is completely worth it.

“You bought us a place?” asks Sam in the smallest of whispers.

“Technically,” Root begins, and Sam can already feel the shift in her demeanour. She hears the smile creeping up her voice and feels her own lips twitching upwards. “ _She_ bought it. I just gave her a ton of specifications.”

Sameen peels herself off of Root. Looks into those eyes that always manage to say the right things to her. Her thumb hasn't stopped moving. Root’s fingers are still dancing on her skin, her eyes roaming over her face. And Sam's smile is reaching unprecedented dimensions.

“You bought us a place,” Sameen says, before pulling Root down and showing her with a kiss just how much this means to her.

The feeling of Root’s smile against her lips is one of her favourite things in the entire universe. She swears she will never grow tired of it.

It is an absolute impossibility.


	2. Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root wants to make a big romantic gesture for Sameen, but Sam has other, *ahem*, plans in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for this chapter... it just did whatever it wanted. Just. Oh man. XD

The feeling Root loves most in the entire world is that of Sam’s lips all over her. Sameen had made it her mission last night to show her just how grateful she was for their new place, a place Root hopes will soon feel like home.

The apartment’s warm enough for Sam to have thrown the sheets to the side, half her body still partially covered by them. Root has been watching her sleep for the past half hour, carefully listening to the sighs that escape her, the smacking of her mouth, her unintelligible mumbling. She wonders what could be going on in her head, hoping it's a comforting dream. If the small, unguarded smile that graces Sam's features is anything to go by, she's sure that it is.

A rumbling sound coming from Sam's stomach makes her giggle, and she's glad she made the preparations for when this moment came around with time to spare. Moving minutely so as not to wake her, Root presses her lips to Sam's forehead before getting out of bed. She closes the door behind her, making sure the hinges don't creak. She oiled them two days ago. This is something she's been planning for months, no way she's gonna let Sameen wake up before her surprise is ready.

Everything has to be _perfect_.

Oh boy.

Before she can take three steps into the hallway, Root needs to stop, breathe. Feeling her heart clawing at her throat, she makes her way to the bathroom and shuts the door. First thing she did when the contract for the apartment was signed was wire the place. The Machine has eyes and ears everywhere in here (something that Sameen guessed last night, and was surprisingly okay with).

So it's no surprise to Root to hear Her inform her that she should relax, lower the rhythm of her heart. There aren't any threats that She can see, so why is her Interface experiencing anxiety?

Why, indeed. This is everything she's ever wanted: a place to call home, a family of her own, someone to love and who loves her back. Hell, they've even got a dog amongst the lot of them.

“ _This_ ,” she says to the mirror, her hands splayed over the vanity top, “this is real, then. I'm not imagining it?”

The Machine's reply is short and calming. At first Root can't make sense of the sound, but after a few seconds it becomes clear in her implant. Sam's snoring softly next door, and She's relaying the information on to her. Sameen’s not the only one who still needs confirmation that the day she's living is not just in her imagination.

The tension in Root’s body ebbs away, lifting off her like the blankets Sam stole for herself in her sleep. She smiles at the camera placed behind the mirror, mutters a _thank you_. The Machine keeps playing Sam's sleepy noises in her implant, a soothing balm to her nerves.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, Root makes her way to the kitchen. Located on the other side of the apartment, she's far enough away from the bedroom to be sure that Sam doesn't hear anything she's up to. Her bare feet make no sound as she gathers what she needs from the fridge, setting everything on the island behind her. The few pans they have are still boxed, so she goes to retrieve the box that holds them from the dining room and brings it into the kitchen.

The kitchen is in a corner of the building facing East, and the sunrise is starting to illuminate the scene. Root’s plan is already shifting: she wanted to be awake with Sam so they could see this together, but she wasn't counting on barely getting any sleep the night before. It truly is a wonderful thing that she's up and about _considering_ …

The orange glow coming in from the windows casts lovely shades over Root’s long legs, highlighting the warmer tones of her wavy hair. The coffee maker -a gift from Harold- is already busy brewing a pot of Sam's favourite brand. Root has no trouble reaching a high shelf that Sameen would need to stool to get to: the perfect hiding place for the lemon and poppyseed pound cake she made the day before.

Soon, Root gets lost in the task at hand, collecting cups and plates and setting them on the island, breaking eggs on a bowl to add some protein powder before whisking them and throwing the mix in the hot pan on the stove.

While the eggs are cooking, she cuts an orange in half, then a couple bananas. Picks some nuts from a jar she placed on a shelf yesterday while the boys helped her move. She puts half a nut in her mouth, feeling her lips curving up in a proud smile. Checking the eggs, she turns the stove off, and can't help but wiggle her butt, releasing a giggle. She picks up the pan and a wooden spoon, turning to the island, thinking _Sam's gonna_ love _this,_ when her eyes find her staring at her, leaning on the frame of the kitchen door, arms crossed over her chest. Root swears she's never seen such a smug grin on her girlfriend before.

Sameen lets her head rest on the doorframe, lengthening her neck and biting her lower lip. She leers at her with dark, hooded eyes, making Root’s skin tingle all over, her toes curling at the sight of the woman in front of her…

Something burns her fingers and Root suddenly remembers what she's holding. She sets the pan with the eggs down on a mat on the island, all the while feeling Sameen’s eyes roaming her skin, touching it in those places where Sam's long rugby jersey doesn't cover her. If this were another day, she'd waste no time closing the distance between them, but today…

“How long have you been standing there?” she asks Sameen, a small whine to her voice.

Sameen is completely unaffected by Root’s Eeyore behaviour. “Long enough,” she says, still letting her eyes travel over Root.

“You were supposed to be _sleeping_ ,” Root complains. She hadn't noticed the change in her implant, going from hearing Sameen to nothing at all. Her eyes wander down to the plates on the island, the pound cake waiting to be cut. Her hands come to rest on the island top, her weight falling on her shoulders. “And I was supposed to bring you breakfast to bed.”

“Doesn't matter.”

At the sound of Sam's lilting voice, Root lifts her gaze to her, frown deepening. “It matters, Sam. It matters to me.”

She wanted to do this the right way, even though she knows Sam probably can't see that yet. Root’s been teaching her how to share a space; surely it wouldn't take Sam long to learn what this gesture means, the importance of it.

Sameen peels herself off the doorway, moving deliberately slowly towards Root. Her fingers run over the island as she moves closer, gently brushing Root’s when she reaches her.

“It really doesn't, Root,” she says. Her right hand tucks Root’s wayward hair behind her ear, sending a chill down her spine. Sam presses herself fully against Root, standing on tiptoe to kiss the neck she branded mere hours ago. “That's not what I'm in the mood for right now.”

The food forgotten, Root cranes her neck to gain better access to Sam's lips, but Sam denies it to her in favour of continuing to bite her even through the fabric of her t-shirt.

Sameen slides a hand over the swell of her ass, kneading the flesh, earning quite a few moans from Root. The sounds make her bite into Root’s breast even harder. It's all Root can do to arch her back, to bring herself closer to Sameen.

A hiss reaches Root’s ear. She hadn't realised she's been digging her nails into Sam's forearm hard enough to leave crescent moons there. The sight of her marks on Sameen, it always drives her crazy knowing that she put them there, that she's allowed to touch, to sign that body as hers, and-

“ _Ah!”_ she screams as Sam turns her over roughly. In the blink of an eye, Sameen has her pressed against the island, the edges of it digging into her back.

Two hearts beating at the same speed, two people breathing as one, stealing the air right out of the other.

Sameen crashes her chest against Root’s, forcing her to lay her elbows on the island for support, her hands grabbing onto the edge for good measure. Sam's open mouth and her heaving, hot breath against Root’s ribs starts a fire that follows the same line as her nails carving a path up from Root’s thighs, over the hills of her ass, leaving red trails that end on her lower back.

Try as she may, Root isn't strong enough to lift her head, so she just lets it fall back, moaning in delight, surrendering herself to Sameen.

And effectively driving her over the edge.

Sameen pulls her upright by the arm, a feral look in her eyes, pupils blown, the hottest thing Root’s ever seen. She nearly tears her own jersey off of Root’s body in her eagerness to leave more skin exposed. Somewhere in her muddled mind, Root has the bright idea to life her arms and help her, convinced that Sameen is already far beyond logical reasoning.

Sure enough, as soon as the offending piece of clothing is pulled off, Sameen resumes her attack full force. Her teeth track her bites from the night before. Her tongue licks the nail marks she left over Root’s ribs and the hollow of her belly. Her mouth latches onto the bruises she gifted Root as she repeated in her good ear just how much she _loved_ their new home. How much she couldn't wait to make use of every single room. And how she could _just imagine_ making Root scream her name in all of them.

Root’s fingers grip Sam's shoulders for support, her body bending over Sameen’s. She's not sure if she can stay standing much longer.

“ _Sameen_ ,” she moans, knowing the effect hearing her name will have on the other woman. But it's not like she can say much more, what with the way she feels Sam's grin against her belly button, or Sam's fingers traveling down the waist of her underwear. All she can do is let out a soft hum as Sameen looks up at her.

Root struggles to open her eyes, finds Sam kneeling, feels her breath right where she needs it. But Sameen is relentlessly teasing, enjoying her power way too much. The sight of her looking up at Root through her eyelashes, on the kitchen floor where Root was preparing this grand romantic gesture for her… Root swears she could come right now, if only Sam would let her.

“What, baby? Tell me,” Sam says, her tongue tracing circles over Root’s inner thigh.

 _Fuck_ , she's good.

“ _I know_ ,” she responds, and apparently Root said that out loud but the second Sameen’s lips make contact with her through the fabric of her panties, Root just loses her shit. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

Damn it, she knows exactly what calling her “baby” does to her, reducing her to an incoherent mess, a mess that can't breathe.

“ _You,_ ” Root manages. “I need you.”

Because it's not “fuck me” anymore. It is _take me, kiss me, make me scream and make me yours._

Sam's mouth is hot against her sex as she lays an open mouthed kiss on her. “Here?” she asks Root, running a finger over her sensitive spot.

Root smiles, bites her lips as she hears she's not the only one deeply affected by all this. She can't help the giggle that escapes her, before turning into something more primal. “Yes, I want to feel you. _Please_.”

Sameen’s body is practically melded to hers, her forehead resting on her belly, allowing Root to feel the shiver that courses through her at those words, the hand on her thigh pressing deeper, the only thing keeping Root upright.

She loves the growl that grows from Sameen’s throat, that echoes through them both as she finally,  _finally_ , connects her lips, her tongue, her teeth to the spot where she needs her most. Sameen is relentless in her mission and Root’s sighs and moans only fuel her drive.

Root’s legs turn to jelly, but Sam notices and holds her up, all the while still licking away at Root’s core. Root buries her hands in Sam's hair, pulling it just _so_ , making Sam scream against her. Root’s close, but Sameen is dragging it out and it is annoyingly painful and delicious at the same time.

“ _Sam_ ,” she chides. “Stop it.” She pulls sharply at her hair to make her point.

Perhaps it wasn't the wisest of moves (or maybe it was just what she set out to do), because in retribution, Sameen slams three fingers inside of her without warning.

The feeling of Sameen inside of her, of her teeth clamping down on her flesh, of her strong arm holding her weight against the kitchen island, all of it combined makes up for an explosive combination that soon has Root trapping Sam's hand and head between her legs, all but yanking a lock of black hair from her head.

Sameen waits as Root’s thighs part, releasing her head. She sports the widest fucking grin and Root can't wait to kiss it off her face. She pulls out of Root and, looking directly into her eyes, brings her fingers to her mouth to start licking them clean. Root could come again just by looking at her.

Instead, she drops to the floor, kneeling beside Sameen. Grabbing her wrist before Sam can do much more, she brings them to her own mouth, trapping Sameen’s fingers with her lips.

Sameen watches as Root licks her fingers, her jaw hanging open, a loud moan leaving her without permission. Now it's Root’s turn to grin, victorious.

She doesn't waste any time shoving Sameen by the shoulders, pushing her onto the floor and straddling her waist. Her hair falls all over Sam, and she knows Sam loves it.

“What about breakfast?” is Sameen’s trying-to-be-unaffected question. “I thought you were hungry?”

Root grins wickedly, licking her lips and letting her eyes wander over Sameen. “Oh, sweetie, who said I wasn't?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, this isn't a series of one shots, but in any case, I'll be incorporating different prompts into it. I didn't use any prompt for this one. I was going to, but then the girls just went ahead and did what they wanted.  
> This is the lemon/poppyseed pound cake Root makes: http://www.cookingclassy.com/2014/07/lemon-poppy-seed-bread/ It's a go-to of mine, super yummy!  
> And I'm a rugby fan, so obviously my Sam is too. Go Pumas!

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this work comes from Francesca Michielin's "No Degree of Separation" (thanks Mars!), and I think it fits the girls (especially Sam) very nicely. http://lyricstranslate.com/es/no-degree-separation-no-degree-separation.html


End file.
